Chapter 19 · The Landlord's Real Name

"Stop calling yourself Daniel Roy."

He froze halfway to the kitchen counter, his hand still reaching for the bottle of water he'd never grab. The fluorescent light above us buzzed. I could hear my own pulse in my ears.

"That's my name," he said, but his voice came out flat. Dead.

"Bullshit." I stepped closer, my sneakers squeaking on the linoleum. "You've been lying since the day I signed the lease. You don't flinch when I say Mara's name. You knew my mother. And you just told me you signed a contract fifteen years ago, which means you were what, twelve? Try again."

He turned slowly. His face looked older in the bad light—lines I hadn't noticed before, shadows under his eyes that didn't come from one sleepless night. His jaw worked like he was chewing through every possible lie before he gave up and swallowed them all.

"Daniel's the name on the deed," he said. "It's legal."

"Legal's not the same as real."

"Real doesn't matter when you're trying to keep a house from eating people."

I laughed. It came out sharp and ugly. "You think hiding behind a fake name keeps anyone safe? My mother's dead. Mara's dead.